


Spellbound

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ace/Aro Castiel, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Cock & Ball Torture, Domme Meg, F/M, Riding Crops, Shoe Kink, Sub Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg flicked her wrist and slapped him across the cheek with the crop. He felt his whole face flush hot, one cheek stinging. The brief flash of pain sent a jolt down his spine. His breathing was unsteady already. He couldn’t help it. He felt like he was surfacing for air, his head cleared and for one brief brilliant moment life made sense. This felt right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spellbound

Castiel loosened his tie and took a deep breath as he followed after the swaying hips of the brunette leading him down a back hallway. 

_I put a spell on you_

The music pulsed loudly from the club, deep bass vibrating the floors and the song currently playing sounded a lot more modern than the original. Instead of the spooky vocals and jazzy feel, it was something electronic and hypnotically sensual.

_‘cause you’re mine_

Meg led him to their usual room, and although the music was muffled when the door clicked shut behind them, Castiel could still feel it crawling under his skin. 

_You better stop the things you do_

His sensible trench coat had barely kept out the chill of the October night air, but he was sweating in the small dark room that now seemed almost too confined. 

_I ain’t lyin’, no I ain’t lyin’_

He felt irritable and impatient and this wasn’t the sort of reaction that Meg usually invoked. Of course, she didn’t usually dress like this. 

_You know I can’t stand it_

There wasn’t a dress code, per se, to being a dominatrix, Castiel supposed. She always wore blacks and purples, plenty of leather and curve hugging clothes. He hadn’t thought she’d get dressed up special for Halloween, of course, he hadn’t really remembered that it was Halloween weekend when he came down to the club to see her. 

_You’re runnin’ around, you know better daddy_

Castiel wasn’t shy about paying for what he wanted. It made it simpler, something clearly defined. ‘X’ amount of cash for ‘a,b’ and sometimes ‘c’ services. There were no unnecessary social interactions to blunder through or questions to keep him up late at night about ‘what they meant to each other’. No, it was all perfectly clear. 

_I can’t stand it cause you put me down, yeah_

It was almost a perfunctory transaction, to be brutally honest. Usually once or twice a month, a session with Meg could ease his anxiety and give him the fix he needed to get through another month. There was no sex involved, this was an entirely legal and respectable establishment. Although, he did find himself aroused sometimes. What could he say, she knew just how to flick her wrist to wrap the falls of that heavy leather flogger around his ribs just so right. 

_I put a spell on you_

Castiel was usually more composed than this. He was sweating, and felt a ball of tension knotting up in his stomach. He hadn’t felt that since the first time he came here. But tonight. Oh. Those boots. 

_Because you’re mine, you’re mine_

One of the reasons Castiel was so fond of Meg, and a good loyal customer, was that she had a firm hand for pushing a six foot man to his knees. Today, Castiel dropped to the floor the second she locked the door behind them and the music faded into the background, the loud clack clack of her heels on tile echoing in his ears. 

Oh have mercy. 

Black leather hugging her calves up to the knees, laced tight, with buckles cinched with little silver skulls and spikes jutting back from the heels, the stiletto looking like finger bones. 

Castiel didn’t even think he had a thing for shoes. 

She wore black fishnet thigh highs and a tight leather corset, looking far more stereotypically the part of a dominatrix than he was used to, but it had an undeniable effect on him. 

Meg stood in front of him, feet planted wide and hands on her hips, crimson painted lips smirking. “Like what you see, boy?”

Castiel whimpered. 

“Strip.”

Inelegantly, he shrugged out of his coat and shirt, folding them and setting them aside. Castiel realized he had to stand to take of his pants, and almost tripped himself tearing them off. Meg had her back turned as she picked a riding crop off the wall, but he knew that she was probably watching him over her shoulder, hips turned slightly towards him - and probably laughing to herself. 

Castiel resumed his spot kneeling on the floor when he was naked. His cock was hard already, eyes tracing the lines of her tattoos underneath the fishnets tight around her shapely thighs, and although he wasn’t usually inclined to desiring sexual relations with anyone, he found himself oddly curious what it might be like to be crushed between those thighs. 

The muted strains of music tapered off and whirred back up in another song that was incomprehensible. Meg circled around him, stopping in front of him to tap her riding crop under his chin, lifting his face. Her dark brown hair tumbled in glossy curls over pale shoulders and there was a wicked glint in those sharp brown eyes. 

“It’s the boots today, isn’t it?”

Castiel couldn’t help his eyes from darting down, or how his cock twitched. 

“Wouldn’t of pegged you for a shoe guy, Clarence. But I learn something new every time you visit me. Keeps me on my toes, at least.”

Meg flicked her wrist and slapped him across the cheek with the crop. He felt his whole face flush hot, one cheek stinging. The brief flash of pain sent a jolt down his spine. His breathing was unsteady already. He couldn’t help it. He felt like he was surfacing for air, his head cleared and for one brief brilliant moment life made sense. This felt right. 

The tile floor was cold and hard under his knees, Meg’s smile cruel as she wrapped black tipped fingers around the crop, sliding it in her grasp as she hummed in consideration. Castiel bit his lip, a little grounding pain, his pulse quickening as he squirmed under her gaze. 

With swift, sure movement, Meg lifted one foot and planted her heel square in the middle of his chest giving a hard shove. Castiel fell back on the floor with a grunt, shifting his legs out from under him but he didn’t have time to make himself comfortable when Meg was kicking his knee out and nudging him exactly where she wanted him. Supine and wholly under her control. 

Bending over him as she trailed the smooth leather of her crop from his ankles to his neck, Castiel tried not to squirm excessively. She’d kicked his hands in close to his sides, legs together, cock jutting from his lap. There was some sort of spice to Meg’s perfume that had Castiel feeling on the verge of a sneeze constantly but it suited her personality oddly. As she moved around him, making his body shiver with light barely there touches of the crop, her scent wafted around him and Castiel was finding himself having a hard time staying still. 

That was, most likely, her objective. Teasing and toying with him, giving a few sharp slaps of the crop to his thighs and chest, she circled him making certain her heels clacked loudly and the spikes scraped across his arms. It was maddening, every light touch she gave made him crave, made him impatient. That was how she usually operated, granted, giving him no where near what he wanted until he was pissed off and aggressive, then she really laid in to him. But Castiel tried to be good, he did, he tried to wait her out. 

At the first twitch of his arm upwards towards her, Meg stamped his hand back down to the floor and ground her heel against his wrist, tutting with a click of her tongue as she slapped his cock hard with the crop. 

“What’s the matter angel, am I trying your patience? Such a polite boy, you know. Not the kind of boy I want.”

She scoffed at him and leaned into the heel grinding against his wrist until Castiel grunted. 

Kicking his thighs wide, Meg stepped in between them and turned her face away from him, scraping the spiked heel of her shoe back against his scrotum. Castiel jumped and pressed his fingers against the smooth floor, stretching his body and he couldn’t restrain how his hips jumped. The little pin pricks of focused pain had his testes pulling up, sac tightening, and Meg pressed her heel back closer as she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. 

“Mmm, but I suppose you’re fun enough to keep around.”

Stepping over his leg, Meg strutted up beside his head and rubbed circles over his chest with her crop. He could still feel his scrotum aching, somehow more painful immediately after the pressure had been released but it subsided into a dull throb. Supple leather nudged his cheek, and Castiel turned in to it, Meg rubbing against him with the toe of her boot. Instinctively, Castiel pushed his mouth forward and stuck his tongue out to lick it but he was rewarded immediately for his efforts with another sharp crack against his cheek. 

“Did I tell you that you were good enough to lick my boots? You gotta earn that, sugar.”

Castiel whimpered and balled his hands into fists, legs still spread wide and his cock was dripping pathetically onto his stomach. Meg slung a foot over his chest and crouched above him, close enough he could feel the heat from her vulva just barely above his chest. Sharp nails pricked his cheeks when she gripped his face and studied him, panting, perspiring, pathetic. With a hum, she patted his cheek and stood again, towering over him.

He was shaking a little, aching to touch, that itch under his skin far from sated. Sometimes it felt like there was something inside him trying to claw it’s way out and the only thing that made it abate was pain. Balancing on one foot, Meg lifted the other and planted it firmly over his breastbone before putting her body weight onto it. 

The narrow heel dug into his skin with a fierce bright pain, harder as she tested him out and leaned back on the heel taking pressure off the ball of her foot. Castiel shifted and simpered, face tensing up but his heartbeat was going wild and the sting of that single prick rippled through his body in waves. 

“Be a good boy and stay still now.”

Meg tapped his chin with her crop before lifting her weight off the one foot that was planted on the floor, putting all of her weight on the foot on his chest and Castiel gasped at the keen intensity that pushed against his chest sending his breath whumphing out. It couldn’t have been a second before Meg was back to splitting her weight between one foot on the floor and one on his chest but it made him go cross eyed. 

“Mmm, you’re tough enough. Hand up.”

Rubbing her shoe along his arm, it took Castiel a moment to register the command. Lifting up his arm, he blinked confused at her. 

“Other one too.”

Castiel raised both arms, straightening them. Meg bent over him, chest spilling over the top of her corset as she laid her small palms on top of his, riding crop still clutched in one. Steading herself, she grinned wickedly at him and used his arms for balance as she lifted her foot from the floor and stood with both on top of his chest. 

Her weight crushed his lungs down and Castiel fought not to squirm as she alternated her weight, spreading her feet a little and he had the vague impression that she was prancing on him. The stilettos of her heels left a map of stinging aches across his chest, but he hadn’t realized how much of her weight was redirected down his arms until she straightened, gaining her balance and putting all her weight on her two feet planted squarely on his chest. 

Huffing shallow breaths, Castiel could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead into his hairline, his arms still raised for her if she needed them. His eyes rolled back in his head when she shifted and pushed her heels down, pain blooming hot. Castiel was whining, little stuttering whimpers that were desperately needy and undeniably aroused. Meg laughed. She swayed her hips and ground down and laughed. 

Using his hands to steady herself, she took her weight off him and started circling him again and Castiel vaguely wondered how long she had been standing on him. Glancing down at his chest, there were a few bright circles of blood welling up. Meg smacked her crop against his trembling stomach, and he yelped when she kept going until his skin was pinked. 

“I know what you really want.”

Castiel took great heaving breaths, relishing the feel of his ribcage expanding, feeling light headed. Meg strutted around him, heels clicking, tracing her crop over his skin again lightly before she moved to stand between his thighs facing him this time. 

Lifting one foot, she nudged the smooth bottom of the toe against his scrotum, rolling them, before sliding it up over his cock. Trapping his cock between her boot and his belly, she pressed firmly against the head and Castiel shamelessly gave up to rock his hips against the friction. She slapped his thigh with the crop for that. 

Dragging the sharp point of her heel along the underside of his cock, Meg unerringly found the most sensitive spot at the frenulum to dig her heel into. Castiel whined, yet still, he couldn’t help pushing up against it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he lifted an arm to wrap his hand around her ankle, supple leather warmed by her body heat, curling his fingers over the spikes. She smiled at him though, almost curiously fond, as he held her ankle and rutted against the small but intense prick of pain on his cock briefly until he was coming messily on his stomach as he screamed. 

Well that was…. unusual. 

Panting, sweaty skin sticking to the floor under him, blood trickling down his chest and his belly striped from the crop, Castiel garbled something unintelligible. Meg strode up to stand beside his head, nudging him with the toe of her boot. 

“Well, gonna clean up the mess you made?”

A coarse laugh bubbled up, but he turned his head and ran the flat of his tongue over the soft leather, cleaning his own come off her boots and nuzzling his face against her, the skull shaped buckles digging in to his cheek. When both her shoes were clean, Meg turned to clean off her crop and hang it back on the wall. 

Castiel sat up, dazed, and scrunched his nose down at the mess covering him. He could deal with blood perfectly fine, but there was something unpleasant about the consistency of semen that he did not appreciate. Meg seemed to understand his squinting and offered a pack of wet wipes. 

“That was new.”

Castiel scrubbed his stomach and replied gruffly, “You’re telling me.”

New, but not wholly unpleasant.


End file.
